


Montgomery

by the_dangerous_ginger



Series: Wincestiel Smut Drabbles and Ficlets [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multi, Temporary Character Death, ft. Samulet, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dangerous_ginger/pseuds/the_dangerous_ginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They buried Dean in Montgomery, Alabama, between two maple trees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Montgomery

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> ~K

They buried Dean in Montgomery, Alabama, between two maple trees.

It had been a freak accident, a stipulation of the job, the life they lived. The werewolf had been killed just moments before, but none of them had seen the mate until it was too late.

Dean had died choking on his own blood as Sam held him and Castiel tried his damndest to use his grace to heal the horrific wound.

At one time in his very long life, he would have been able to fix it without blinking, but that time was, unfortunately, long gone.

The two didn’t give him a proper hunter’s funeral, choosing to simply bury him in a shallow grave instead and find a way to bring him back again.

That was nearly a month and a half ago.

Sam looked more haggard than ever. The bags under his eyes were dark enough that they could be mistaken for bruises and Cas was fairly sure that he hadn’t slept or showered in over three days.

Not that he could say much.

He watched over the remaining Winchester night and day, relying on his grace to keep him running. It was beginning to take its toll though. His head constantly hurt, as did the rest of his body, the muscles aching from the copious amounts of stress that they were being put under. The guilt of letting both brothers down was eating him alive, seeping through his veins like acid. 

Across from him, Sam slammed his laptop closed, tears threatening to spill over on pale cheeks. Without a word, the tall man stood and grabbed his duffel bag, then began rifling through it vigorously.

By the way he dug at the contents, Sam didn’t actually know what he was looking for, he was just rummaging until he did.

Apparently, he was unsuccessful.

He threw the bag against the motel’s far wall, uncaring of the cacophony of noises that emanated as it knocked over a lamp on the way down and the items inside tumbled out.

A choked noise escaped Castiel when one of the objects rolled into view. 

Wrapped in a red bandana was Dean’s amulet. 

The brass head shined in the light of the lamp lying near it and the leather cord was still tied in the same simple knot that it had been when he’d last seen it.

Another small noise escaped him when he shuffled over and bent to grab it and found the charm colder than ever.

When he turned to face Sam again, he found him silently staring at the bauble, tears flowing freely. 

The two gravitated towards each other, wrapping themselves up in the other and sobbing over the man they both loved more than life itself. 

Eventually, they ended up on one of the motel beds, Sam curled in his arms and shaking. He looked so small and childlike that way, staring up at Castiel with red rimmed hazel eyes. With a tiny flick of his fingers he cut off all the lights in the room, letting the darkness settle over them like a thick blanket. Sam let him soothe him to sleep by running a hand through his hair and not long after, he succumbed to sleep as well.

Hours later, the feeling that someone was watching them woke him. Sam was still fast asleep on his chest, snoring softly, so he knew that it wasn’t him. He made sure to not move a muscle and keep his breathing at the same pace, then cracked one eye open and surveyed the area.

A figure was lounging in one of the motel’s kitchenette chairs, feet propped up on the table, and was twirling something in their hand silently. 

Unknowingly, his breath had stopped in his throat, alerting Sam of the situation as well.

They both rolled to their feet at the same moment, Sam grabbing the gun under his pillow and Cas summoning his angel blade in tandem.

Cas flicked the lights back on, prepared to fight whatever sat before him.

The twirling stopped along with everything else.

“Shoulda known you’d keep this thing.” 

Dean’s voice was terrifyingly surreal. The amulet hung from his long, dirty fingers, specks of filth coating the brass.

He looked like he always had, his green eyes holding the same spark that both Sam and Castiel had come to love. He was covered in dirt but otherwise unscathed, the garish wound that he’d died from gone and replaced with healthy pink skin.

An array of items sat on the table beside him, all of them to confirm that he was still human.

That he was still Dean.

They didn’t need them though.

Castiel’s grace ebbed in response to the flow of Dean’s soul, so bright and lively, even with the spots of tainted black.

Dean was alive.

_ He was alive! _

The realization dawned on both of them at nearly the same moment and spurred them into action.

Sam reached him first, tackling him in a giant hug and pairing it with a scorching kiss. The two clung to each other for long moments until Dean pulled away and turned his attention to where Cas was still standing, watching the exchange adoringly.

Castiel met him with a more tender kiss but with no less joy and love. Dean tasted like dirt, blood, and his own cool grace.

The combination was hedonistic.

It also answered the question of how he was alive again. At the time, Castiel hadn’t thought of the possibility but it made sense. His grace had melded with Dean’s soul long ago and as long as Castiel himself was alive, it would continue to utilize his healing abilities, even after death. It had kept Dean from crossing over to the other side and essentially just put him in a state of hibernation while he healed.

That was also why Castiel had felt more drained than ever afterwards. He wasn’t just mourning and watching over Sam like he’d promised, he was still healing Dean.

The finer details of everything would have to be mulled over later on because the three of them were moving again.

Clothes were thrown haphazardly, landing in every corner of the room without care. Hands, tongues, and teeth clashed together in the most unholy of ways, but Castiel couldn’t find it in him to care.

In moments like those, he felt whole. 

Pure.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Let me know!
> 
> ~K


End file.
